


Inertia

by cassiopea (nina_monk)



Series: Twice the Man I Used to Be [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Binging, Body Image, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Chubby Bruce, Chubby!Bruce - Freeform, Eating Kink, Feeder/Feedee dynamics, Feeding Kink, Feedist issues, Food Issues, Food Kink, M/M, Overeating, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Stuffing, Triggers, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, food addiction, obesity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Tony's overseas on business, Bruce busies himself with lab work and goes too long without eating. When he finally does eat, he goes a bit overboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings in the tags. Also, apologies: This piece leans heavily into kink territory.
> 
> Note: "Inertia" will probably make more sense if you read other pieces first, but this section occurs approximately a month after the end of "Friction."

**Height** (Ht): 171.25 cm  
**Current Weight** (CW): 103.6 kg  
**Days at Stark Tower:** 319.

***

 

“Dr. Banner--”

“In a minute, Jarvis,” Bruce muttered. His fingers flew across the virtual keyboard while he diverted his attention to a secondary display. He was almost there, he could feel it. The numbers on the magnetic field were correct, and--

“Dr. Banner, I do apologize. But I must insist--”

“Jarvis,” he said, a bit more sharply than he would’ve liked. His fingers flew faster as the readings adjusted to his calculations. The whole experiment hinged on this virtual data set, but he needed to tweak it. Plus or minus .0007, it should work, it _would_ work. “Ten minutes. Just...cool your crystals.”

“Your last ten minute caution was nearly two hours ago, Dr. Banner. Per the break protocols set by Stark Industries--”

“No, no, c’mon...” Bruce ignored the AI’s protests as his results began fluctuating. “Not again. Goddammit, don’t fall apart on me now.” He smacked the counter with a tight fist and the screen hiccuped. “The variances were well within parameters! There was no way it could possibly--”

Bruce growled as the screen dimmed to black, preventing him from seeing the final results. _“Dammit!”_

“Your work has been saved, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis calmly stated. “But I do suggest caution, as your heart rate is nearing critical - and your blood sugar is dangerously low.”

Bruce’s hands shook, and he felt himself slipping--horribly so. “Bring it back, Jarvis. Now!”

“Doctor Banner.” The AI’s voice was soothing but firm and insistent, which pissed off Bruce that much more. Leaping to his feet, he paced the short distance of his desk while curling and releasing his fists to relieve tension. “You have been awake for nearly twenty hours,” Jarvis continued, “and you have neither eaten nor slept in that amount of time. You have made critical errors in your calculations that I could have remedied, had you but asked, but I fear you’ve driven yourself past the point of rational thought.”

“Fuck off.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Doctor. Shall I call Sir to help?”

Bruce smirked darkly at the AI’s humor but he was still keyed up, too much so, and he couldn’t _think_. He twisted his left wrist, wincing at how sore it suddenly felt, and realized Jarvis was right - he’d gone through an alarming number of warning shocks.

Rubbing his temples, Bruce attempted to cool off. He was more angry with himself because this experiment was one more intrinsic problem in a slew of others, and he should have planned for its failure. Except he _wanted_ it to work, and he wanted to show Tony how an alloy they’d scrapped as an idea for one of his suits could have much broader applications in the real world. Bruce had wanted to solve the problem for Tony, before he returned home from his trip. But the longer Bruce worked, the more the project dogged him, and the more he obsessed over it.

And of course obsession _always_ worked well for him.

Grumbling, Bruce collapsed heavily on a stool. “Sorry, Jarvis,” he finally muttered. “I’m acting like an ass. I know.”

“Agreed” the AI admitted, and Bruce barked out a chuckle. “But no worse than Sir on the anniversary of an unfortunate event.”

“Mm.” A frown tugged at Bruce’s lips. Yeah, he knew about Tony’s bad periods, as he was sure Tony knew about his. Certain times of the year were different shades of horrible, for both of them.

Bruce rubbed his thumb and forefinger beneath his glasses, feeling the one-two punch of tired grumpiness coupled with hunger. Honestly, he should crash, and quit trying to wait up for Tony’s jet from Moscow.

“Might I suggest,” Jarvis hesitated. “Dr. Sommerall had a retirement party this morning, and leftovers from the event are located within the common area, on this floor.”

Bruce snorted when his stomach growled. “Well, that answers what I should do first, I guess.” He frowned; he probably should’ve been at the party since everyone in the sciences had gone, but he hadn’t known Leslie Sommerall that well and he elected to stay behind, to work.

Besides, the party refreshments were typical cake fare and he’d wanted something more substantial at the time.

His stomach groaned again. “All right, all right, you big baby,” he said, patting his belly. He chewed the inside of his cheek, briefly mulling through the changes he’d experienced over the months (and they weren't all physical). Food had become a giant electric on-switch from a monster movie, shocking and overloading his senses with aromas, tastes, colors and the like. Eating made him feel both monstrous and alive, and allied him with gluttony and serenity, comfort and peace - emotional states he rarely, if ever, experienced in the entirety of his life. 

And the new feelings were more than a little addicting.

On the other hand, he thought, tapping his larger midsection, he _had_ become pretty round. Round enough that he had trouble seeing his feet unless he bent over. His saving grace had been working in the lab since he rarely ate while working, and he’d been working on a number projects lately. But he could definitely stand to miss a few meals--

 _Ah, ah, ah, no negative talk_ , his brain intoned, repeating his lover’s sexy cadence. Bruce smiled softly - he missed Tony more than he expected to.

“Jarvis, put in a call to that Asian fusion restaurant down the street,” he said. He’d wandered to the common room without consciously thinking about it. Well...a few bites of cake wouldn’t kill him. “I need an order of Chung Ton Gai and Phat Si Io. Chicken,” he amended. Might as well order for Tony too, in case he was hungry after his travels.

“Good choices, Dr. Banner. Anything else?”

Bruce furrowed his brow. He was suddenly _really_ hungry--

“Um, maybe some appetizers. A general mix of potstickers, an order of crab rangoon...oh, and calamari, they make really good calamari.” He stroked his chin. “Make that two orders of calamari.”

“Very good. Any libations?”

“How much beer’s left in Tony’s fridge?”

“Two bottles, Dr. Banner.”

“Go ahead and order a six pack of whatever import they have available. Phuket’s good, if they have it.” Entering the common kitchen, Bruce checked around for the cake but didn’t see it.

“Leftover cake and ice cream from the event were placed in the refrigerator and freezer, respectively,” Jarvis politely informed him.

“Ah, right. Makes sense...” He opened the fridge and was a little surprised; the cake's packaging took up an entire shelf, though only a quarter of cake remained. He grinned at a sticky note plastered to the cover. Someone drew a decent facsimile of Lewis Carroll’s Alice, with a tiny banner declaring EAT ME over her head. Good, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty, then.

Spurned on by his increased hunger, Bruce placed the cake carton on a table, then checked the cabinets for paper plates. He grimaced; plastic spoons, yes. Forks, knives, and paper plates, no. Oh, well. He supposed he could cut a slice off with a spoon.

He ripped off the plastic top and immediately tucked into a thick corner. Icing, he discovered, was one of the last bastions of civilization, especially the cream cheese kind. “Ohh, this is fucking fantastic,” he groaned, mouth full. He wasn’t sure of the cake flavor yet but if the cream cheese icing was this delicious, he knew he’d have no problems loving the cake part. Bruce took bigger bites and the flavors churned across his tongue. Man, was that raspberry cream between layers of white cake? He’d never had a raspberry cream cake before. It was so good, he couldn’t stop and he really didn’t want to. “This shit’s like heroin,” he muttered while scarfing it. The first millisecond of each bite felt like a cattle prod of ecstasy to his brain, forcing him to eat so he could enjoy the happy little feeling over and over again. He took another bite and whimpered. “Almost better than sex.”

It was a lot of leftover cake, enough for maybe four or five servings, but Bruce greedily ate it all and scraped up the stray frosting ribbons. He frowned a little when it was gone but at least the sugar high put him in a better mood. Jarvis had been right, he should’ve eaten hours ago.

The back of his mind buzzed at him, warning him that he did have dinner coming but he still felt starved and Jarvis mentioned something about ice cream...

“Bingo,” Bruce singsonged when he opened the freezer. He popped out four pints of various Ben and Jerry’s flavors and noted that two of the four were nearly empty. _No one’s going to finish these_ , he thought. _Not if they’ve already been opened_. He held his spoon like a conductor's baton and cleared the first two containers with quick, sharp swipes. They were both delicious and gone far too quickly.

“Hmm...I've heard of this one,” Bruce said, examining the third: _Phish Food._ Sounded interesting. Only maybe a half of the container had been eaten but Bruce finished it before deciding no, it wasn’t his favorite; he wasn’t a fan of marshmallow cream in his ice cream. But he didn't regret eating it. It was something new to try, something new to experience, and his brain thanked him for the buzz.

The last was _Late Night Snack_. The flavor had hardly been touched, and he was getting full, but he wanted to see what it was like. Besides, they needed the freezer space for Monday’s lunch crowd, right? And wasting the entire container would be downright shameful. So Bruce justified his reasoning even as a glob of ice cream fell from his spoon, and splattered dead center on his oxford shirt.

“Waste not, want not,” Bruce muttered as he scraped the ice cream blob off his bloated tummy and popped it back in his mouth. He was surprised that he liked it, considering it contained potato chips. If he weren't full of ice cream and cake already he definitely wouldn't have minded if there had been more.

Finally, when nothing remained, he frowned at the damage; justifications or no he'd eaten a lot. Delicious, but...yeah. Too much. Bruce sighed deeply and tossed the empties in the trash for the cleaning crew. Part of him felt repulsed by his gluttony but a louder, more childish part wanted to shout rousing "fuck yous" in Brian Banner's general direction.

"So there," he muttered, rubbing his stomach. His belt felt a little tight but thankfully his stomach looped, unhindered, over his belt buckle; he'd change into more comfortable clothes when he went back to his place.

Bruce yawned; he’d sleep well for sure, now, what with a sugar crash immin--

“Your food is ready to pick up from the lobby, Dr. Banner.”

“Oh, hell.” He ran a hand over his face. He should’ve waited and eaten the ice cream and cake after dinner, but he didn’t realize how hungry he was. “I forgot about the delivery order. Fine, all right, Jarvis. I’ll be down in a sec.” He could put the food in the fridge in his apartment, or at Tony’s place, and they could eat it later.

But Bruce didn’t count on the addicting scent of heavenly-seasoned Asian food.

***  
By the time he grabbed the food from the lobby, tipped the driver, and traveled the elevator to the penthouse suites, he started salivating. The elevator filled with spicy Phat Si Io and chicken and calamari and...shit, how the _hell_ could he still be hungry after all that cake and ice cream? Maybe it was just the smell. He was shivering, though. The very idea of eating it shot the same, strange electrical current through him, down to his toes. Surely he’d feel better once he got upstairs and put it away,

The elevator ride took forever and Bruce kept pushing the button for their floor to try avoiding the smell of the delicious food. It was late enough that he had the elevator to himself but it still took too long to go up. He could think of something else. He should think of the alloy problem...what was missing from it? The conductive properties of Vibranium combined with the inverse reaction of...of.

_Hm. I should eat the appetizers. They won't taste as nice reheated--_

_**Dammit.** _

Bruce made a face as he exited the elevator and lumbered towards his apartment. Out of the two obsessions, he thought as he swiped his keycard through the door reader, between the alloy problem and the food problem, he should just give in and eat, hungry or not. The alloy would take longer to solve and he had a feeling he probably did need Tony's help with it.

He carried the food to the kitchen table while giving himself a stern talking to. _Just the appetizers_ , he thought firmly. _And go get changed._ He frowned at the streak, like a target, on his shirt. _You don't need more stains on your work clothes._

Tsking at the stain (he would take it to the cleaners tomorrow), Bruce grabbed a pair of flannel pants and unbuttoned his work oxford. Yawning, he opted to don a very nerdy t-shirt - something about having nine planets in his day - and grimaced once he put it on. It was smaller and tighter than he last remembered, and a few inches of his gut poked out from beneath. A similar comedy of errors occurred with his flannel bottoms which were too snug for his liking.

“Tony’s laundry service needs to quit using so much hot water,” he grumbled. Well. The clothes were still imminently comfortable, and he could wear a robe to feel a little less exposed. Besides, he was home - who’d care?

Shuffling back into the kitchen, Bruce yawned again as he pulled out the containers with the appetizers. His lips thinned at the amount but he was still salivating and his stomach gave a traitorous little grumble.

 _Pointless to fight it,_ He thought, and he grabbed a beer from the fridge and dug around for the chopsticks. On a whim he turned on the TV and the local ten o'clock news anchors chirped happily at him. Wow, he had been up for a while...

Bruce picked up the first carton of calamari and stuffed his mouth full. At the first burst of flavor he felt his knees weaken. If anyone were watching him right now he would've denied that his eyes were half-lidded or that he was groaning happily. The calamari was lightly seasoned, had the perfect texture, was delicately fried...in other words, bliss with each chew. Comfort food at its best. "Jarvis," Bruce asked, once he swallowed. He rooted around for his second bite while conversing with the AI. "Isn't Tony supposed to be in the States by now?"

Jarvis took too long to answer and Bruce's chopsticks froze over the carton. "Jarvis. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing of consequence, Dr. Banner," and Bruce bit back a curse. He should've known something was off. He hadn't heard from Tony all day.

"You're talking with him right now, aren't you? Is he okay? Is he safe?" .

Another pause. "Doctor Banner, Sir says, and I quote: 'Tell Green Bean not to wait up. Had a little trouble with the plane and the Russian mafia. Widow sends her love.' "

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Translation: You're in your armor, you took heavy damage - enough that the com system is only partially transmitting - and Natasha bailed you out. Relay that to him, Jarvis."

"Of course, Dr. Banner." Pause. "Quoting Sir: 'And that's why I pay you the big bucks. On emergency back up, Banner. I'll have enough to get home, as long as I conserve my juice. Be in Manhattan in three hours or less, promise.' End transmission."

"And he said not to wait up. Yeah, sure." He finished off the calamari while pacing the kitchen floor. "How's Natasha, Jarvis? Is she all right, or can she talk?"

"Ms. Romanoff is currently recuperating in Prague, in a SHIELD-sanctioned hospital. Her surgery presumably went well, but I'm unable to access much more than that, Doctor Banner."

Bruce nervously ran a hand through his hair and continued pacing. "I knew I should've gone. The whole trip stunk from the start...are you positive they're both okay?"

"At this point in time, they both seem equally stable. Field Agent Barton is also en route to Eastern Europe, according to encoded SHIELD manifests."

"Okay." That was something, he supposed. But Bruce's mind was on overdrive. He purposely kept his heart rate down because it was too late for Hulk - but he kicked himself for not noticing earlier. He frowned; Tony didn't want him to worry, he got that, but he didn't like how the only way he guessed something was up was by pushing for answers.

"Dammit, Tony." Bruce ate in earnest now, as the food became more of a soothing balm to his nerves and his active imagination. He concentrated on the flavors, reveled in them, and tried not envisioning Tony or Natasha hurt. He ate mindlessly because the food was there but it also helped him feel a little better.

Bruce flipped channels, trying to find anything on the news feeds but either the situation had yet to hit the newswires, or someone had covered up the story; he wasn't sure which was worse.

An hour later of flipping channels and autopilot eating Bruce felt exhausted, a little drunk, and ready to pop. "Fuck," he murmured, straddling back awkwardly in his chair. He felt as if he'd eaten three Thanksgiving meals, and he didn't want to move, wasn't sure if he even could. It almost hurt to breathe.

As if breaking from a trance he blinked at the table, realizing he'd made short work of everything. He was mad at himself for not only eating the appetizers and his own dish, but he'd eaten Tony's dinner as well. He knew why, though - more comfort eating, soothing of his nerves, pretending Tony was around because he consumed one of his dishes - etcetera. To wash it down he also had three of the beers but he honestly wasn't much of a drinker and it wasn't something he enjoyed unless it was with Tony. But the beers added to his wooziness and all he wanted to do now was try and sleep it off. At least this way the pain in his stomach would keep his mind off things.

His stomach gurgled angrily, like Vesuvius ready to erupt. "So we won't be doing that again," he chastised. For having more than a few PhDs, he could be really dumb sometimes. "Tums, I need Tums."

"Are you in distress, Doctor Banner? Shall I call for assistance?"

Despite how much it hurt, he laughed. "No, Jarvis. I'm...fine. I ate too much, that's all. Tell Tony to take care of himself, and I'll talk to him in the morning." Bruce knew if he didn't give that caveat that Jarvis would probably warn Tony that he was in trouble - and Tony didn't need to rush on limited resources.

He groaned loudly and struggled to get to his feet and finally understood how women in their ninth month of pregnancy felt. Whimpering, he rubbed his distended, bloated middle and ignored how his t-shirt had risen up and bunched atop his round, achy belly. He didn't even have the strength to pull it down for decency's sake. 

"Ugh." Biting back a painful hiccup Bruce pawed at his cabinets, searching for the plastic jar of flavored antacids. Once he found it he he grabbed it off the shelf, dumped out a handful, and put the entire handful in his mouth. It tasted like flavored sawdust, but hell. It's what he deserved for making a pig of himself.

He whined and pouted as he shuffled to the living room and collapsed on his couch, rubbing his stomach all the while to make himself feel better. Sadly, he knew it would take time for the antacids to kick in and he made a small whiny-whimper reminiscent of a sleepy kindergartner on the verge of a tantrum. He laughed a little, as the analogy brought memories of him with his mother, before the tougher times. She would've made him peppermint tea and soothed his aches with bedtime stories.

His smile faded a little.

Those days were long gone.

Bruce grimaced as he tried finding a comfortable position that wouldn't hurt. He could've gone to his bedroom but it wasn't worth the effort to go the last few steps and the couch was comfortable enough. He'd lay for a while and digest what he could, then when he felt better he'd make his way to his room. And anyway, there could be a news broadcast he needed to see.

But as the CNN commentators droned on, Bruce missed how quickly he was succumbing to sleep.

***

He woke to someone slipping beside him on the couch . "Hey," Tony murmured, running his hands through Bruce's curls. Bruce craned his neck to look up at him.

"Hey yourself," he answered softly. Tony had put a blanket over him, apparently, at some time during the night. He moved his hand from beneath the covers and fumbled around until he could wrap one of Tony's hands in his own. "You okay?"

"A little banged up and bruised. I'll be limping for a few days, but nothing's broken - Natasha got the worst of it. They had to do minor surgery on her leg and she'll be out of commission for a few weeks."

Tony grunted and rotated his left shoulder. "She was my escort in, but things can get a little complicated when someone shoots a missile at your jet."

Bruce scowled. "I thought it was supposed to be routine. One of Tasha's contacts from Dagestan who wanted amnesty for a friend. A scientist."

"Set up," Tony sighed. He scrunched into the couch and groaned when he lifted his feet and put them on the coffee table. "Looks like folks just wanted me for my armor to win their little wars. Can't say I blame them, but same shit, different day."

"Hmm," Bruce muttered. Tony blew it off, but Bruce knew the other man would have trouble sleeping for a few nights. The incident would bring up too many ugly memories.

Bruce remained quiet, but gently squeezed Tony's hand in acknowledgment. He'd find ways to help Tony cope, and keep the bottle out of reach.

"And what about you, Bruce?"

"Me? Worried about you, that's all."

"So I heard," Tony said. He chuckled a little and gestured to the kitchen. "But if you were going to have an orgy, the least you could've done was invite me."

"Oh, man," Bruce groaned. "Don't remind me. My stomach still hurts...what time is it, anyway?"

"A little after five a.m." Tony gave him a small kiss and left his side. "You still keep your tea across from the fridge?"

"Yeah. Why?" Bruce struggled to sit up.

"No, stay there." Tony also found trash bags and began dumping the remains of last night in one. Bruce felt a little ashamed, though. He wasn't normally that messy and Tony didn't need to clean up after him.

"I'll turn on your teakettle. Peppermint, or ginger?"

Bruce smiled a little. "Since when did you become an expert on tisanes?"

"Since I started dating an expert."

Bruce lay back on the couch with his arms propped behind his head, keeping the same small smile on his lips. "Peppermint," he told him. "Then maybe ginger."

"Ooh, two cups. Must've been a hell of a bash." Bruce watched Tony carefully as he set up the tea; he was favoring his right leg. He also caught some nasty bruises traveling up his left wrist, hidden beneath his long-sleeved band tee. _He fell,_ Bruce thought automatically. A memory, one that was less his than the Hulk's flashed through his mind. _He fell, and I wasn't there to catch him this time._

"You should've clued me in," Bruce murmured. He picked lint off the blanket before looking over at him. "I don't like being in the dark."

Tony paused a beat but didn't look at him. "Yeah. I kind of suck at that. Pepper got pissed at me for that very thing, after Manhattan. Although in my defense," he said, as the kettle whistled. "I did try calling her."

"At the last minute," Bruce said, "and you told me that was only after Jarvis prompted you." He paused. "Don't worry about my temper, Tony. I can keep Hulk in check while getting to you."

Tony poured tea in two cups, limped into the living room, and handed Bruce one mug. Bruce took a sip and smiled; a dollop of honey had been added to his mug. "I'm not worried about your temper," Tony said, slowly sitting back on the couch. Bruce saw him hold his breath and grimace as he slowly sat back. "I know you by now. If some of the shit you and I fought through didn't set off Hulk before, well...yeah. I know you won't be green unless you want to be."

Bruce nodded. "Good. Then no more of this, 'don't worry Bruce' garbage. I hate that shit."

"Done," Tony said, sipping from his tea, but Bruce had the feeling Tony wasn't done as he curled his fingers into his mug. They sipped in silence a little longer before Tony side-eyed him one.

"Sooo...you wanna talk about your latest escapade, or is that something you don't feel like discussing? Or are you makin' this into a new thing?"

Bruce blushed a little and stared at his hands. "It's not...I don't think it's a habit. I went too long without eating, which was a mistake. I ended up scarfing the leftovers of Sommerall's party, then sort of went crazy on some take out. Sorry, I ah. I ate your half."

"No problem," Tony said, holding up a hand. "I had a quick bite before I came to check on you. I mean, it's up to you, really."

Bruce smirked. "Yeah, I know. Although, if I were totally honest? At one point I think it was...almost a turn-on."

 _"Really_ now?"

"Yes, and _goddammit_ , don't give me that look." 

"What look?"

"The, 'I'm-thinking-of-a-horrible-experiment-that-ends-in-disaster' look." 

"I'm not!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

"Okay, maybe a little." Bruce groaned and held his head in his hands. "Hear me out, I think you just went past the point where it was fun, that's all. So you want to overindulge every once in a while. Everyone does it."

"But not everyone gets turned on by it." 

"Well, no, that's...a different thing," Tony admitted. "But we could try something, in a controlled environment. You and me. But only when you want to, and only when you ask me. You control it. You choose what you want to eat, we shop for it, and..." He shrugged. "If you want, I could feed it to you."

Bruce wrinkled his nose. "That sounds weird."

"Weirder than people putting whipped cream and chocolate sauce on their dicks and asking their SOs if they want a banana split?"

"Ah...hah, okay? Um, Tony, what aren't you telling me?" 

Tony shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine. Strike that. Ignore the last part. What I'm saying is, it could be an interesting direction to take, to help deal with anything going on upstairs." Tony tapped his forehead. "It might help to figure out what was going on when you enjoyed it, and when it became a 'mandate.' " 

"I...ah. I dunno, Tony." Bruce rubbed his temples and felt a small headache coming on. "I'm still on the exploring the sensations part. I don't even know if it's sexual or sensual, or what. It could be that I finally realized food can taste good and it makes me feel good."

"True," Tony agreed. "Seriously though, Bruce. I'm not pushing one way or another. It's your call. The only reason why I brought it up is because you mentioned it."

"I know," he said. He absently rubbed his stomach. "Let me think about it. As for now, I think both of us could do with some real rest. And I want to take a look at those bruises."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeees, Mom."

"Asshole," he murmured, but a smile slipped from his lips.

_***_

Tony took to putting small amounts of sugary snacks in neutral places around their lab space, and every once in a while Tony's bots would nudge Bruce's leg to see if he wanted anything - which he almost always did. Grazing soothed him and helped quell his hunger through the day, but he caught Tony watching him more carefully during their shared lab times. Bruce guessed the other man was taking notes on his reactions to certain foods because, after a few embarrassing incidents of him moaning over his favorite chocolate snacks, Bruce began seeing those particular snacks in the lab, on a semi-regular basis. He didn't mind it, though.They also talked though the other aspect, the feeding aspect, a bit more, but only because Bruce wanted to explore what it was about and why he felt as he did. 

By the time Natasha's leg healed, Bruce approached Tony on a Tuesday afternoon, in one of the larger Stark laboratories. Tony had stepped in for a chat with another department head, and was in full businessman mode. Bruce thought It was almost...invigorating to approach him while they had an audience. When Tony caught his eye, Bruce muttered low in his ear. "Ice cream," he said. "And cupcakes. Shopping on Saturday, and eating on Saturday night." 

"Okay then," Tony hummed back. The smile he shared with Bruce was a little wicked, but hardly scary, and Bruce nodded before heading back to his workstation to discuss a finding with another scientist. 

And Saturday evening was crazy and amazing, and wanton and dark and everything Bruce expected - especially the sex, after they finished the feeding. It was strange at first, but also strangely empowering...and he found it easier to open up to Tony about his past afterwards. 

He and Tony continued their feeding episodes, and sometimes Bruce initiated a role play, and sometimes when he felt out of control he asked for a safe word, but Tony was consistently patient with him and the experiences were always pleasurable. Slowly, Bruce came to realize that he had to buy more to be as satisfied - or more satisfied - and sometimes what he selected for the night still wasn't enough, and Tony ended up raiding his kitchen for more. 

Yes, he realized his clothes were paying the price for his indulgences. But he found the tighter clothes to be a right of passage, and another childish victory over his past. His growing frame was something he easily ignored and put in the back of his mind, for the sake of his own greedy enjoyment. He knew eventually it couldn't last. But for now, he felt freer than he had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> This series is out of sequence, but from here on out I'll post small intros indicating approximate days Bruce has been living in the tower, as well as his approximate weight during that time period.


End file.
